Broken Glass
by T Spoon
Summary: Scully is taken back in time to Germany in 1944. As a young Jewish girl, she needs to decide who she can and can't trust,


~ Broken Glass ~  
  
Author: T Spoon and Elizabeth Hope  
Email: Goldaura11@aol.com (Elizabeth) EvitaRox@aol.com (T Spoon)   
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: If Mulder and Scully belonged to us would we be writing fan fiction? I think not.   
  
  
Mulder's Basement Office  
8:25 AM  
  
"Mornin' Scully!" Mulder said as his redheaded, sleepy eyed partner walked slowly though the doors of the basement office that they had been sharing for the past seven years.  
"Hey Mulder," she wiped her eyes and stretched.  
"Why are you so tired this morning? Did you have another hot night on the town?"   
" Ha ha, very funny." she said in her usual sardonic fashion. "Actually, I was up all night with Matthew. Bill and Tara are in and they wanted a free night so I offered them my services. It figures that is the night Matthew is up with a stomach virus."   
Mulder laughed. "Well, I hope you wake up because this is some case Skinner has us on today." Scully knew that by the tone of his voice that this was going to be another boring classic.   
"Wha . . .What is it?" she yawned.   
"Drugs being smuggled into the US using fish."   
"Fish? Like bumblebee tuna?"  
"No, the new way of smuggling in drugs is by placing tracking devices on the fish, inserting the drugs into them and having them detected by other drug dealers out on the ocean."  
"That takes so much effort though..." She was interrupted by the sound of the telephone.   
"I'll get it." Mulder rolled his chair over to the telephone. "Hello?" he said in a very virtuous voice.  
"Agent Mulder. You and Agent Scully are to report to my office immediately!"   
The cold voice on the other end of the phone was no other then their director Walter Skinner.   
"For what sir?....sir?"   
He had hung up. Mulder placed the phone back on the phone jack and sang a very unenthusiastic "Dum da da dum duuum," as he turned his chair around and prepared to go up to Skinner's office.   
  
* * *  
  
"Good morning Agents Mulder and Scully."   
Skinner rolled his chair up to his desk.  
"I have called you two here today because I have a new case for you guys involving fugitive Nazis that escaped into the U.S. after World War Two." He looked at Mulder. "And I hope you will have just as much fun working on this case as you did with the drug case." Mulder raised his hand as if to defend himself.   
"I'm going to read you this file about these men, so you get a good idea just why they are being locked up."  
Scully cocked her head to the side. The very last thing she wanted to do today was to listen to stories of World War Two. She had heard about the horrors that went on in the Concentration Camps over and over again. However, at this time she just wasn't in the mood for a history lesson. She stretched back and began to listen to Skinner's long speech. She shut her eyes for a second only to discover that opening them was going to give her a history lesson of her own.  
  
* * *  
Germany  
1944  
  
Scully looked up to find herself and her sister Melissa sitting in a newspaper printing press. "Melissa?" she asked, astonished.  
"Samantha, get back to work!" she yelled. "They could come in any minute, and we have to finish these papers. To show our people how they have been mislead, to let the truth be known!"   
"What?" Her sister's tension filled the room like a suffocating smoke. "What truth, Missy?"  
"Quit playing around, Sam!" Scully's heart clenched when she heard herself addressed as 'Samantha'. There was a long moment of silence as she tried to figure out what was going on. She glanced at the papers she was holding. The newsprint headline screamed, GERMAN SOLDIERS LOSING WAR -- HITLER LYING TO HIS OWN PEOPLE! Oh my God thought Scully, anxiously. What year is it? Suddenly there were a series of loud "booms' and a huge crash as the door to the room went down, revealing three Nazi soldiers behind it.   
As they mechanically began to file inside, Scully looked around wildly in terror. She knew something horrible was about to happen -- and for once her instincts were not wrong.  
One dark-haired Nazi yanked her away from the center of the room, roughly, by the arm, nearly flinging her into the wall. In an instant, another soldier had grasped her by the shoulder, and she was held firmly in place.  
She never even thought of her gun.  
The Nazi with a shock of blond hair, presumably the captain, kicked Melissa's legs out from under her. She fell to her knees with a crash. Scully's struggle with her captors intensified.  
The captain pulled out a revolver and cocked the barrel at the woman on the bare wooden floor. He aimed at the center of her neck.  
"Melissa!"   
Scully's anguished scream tore from her throat even as the bullet exploded from its chamber. The tall redhead was flung forward by the close proximity of the shot and it tore a star-shaped hole above her heart. Crimson blood stained the floor.  
Scully felt her world spin to a stop. Melissa was dead. Her emotional pain was so great that it didn't register . . . until she felt a spark of anger inside which quickly enveloped her entire being until she was a fiery, flaming mass of seething hatred. Even her piercing red hair bristled with electricity.  
Slowly, she became conscious of the Nazis still holding her, waiting till their captain gave the orders that she was next. She set her jaw.  
Yanking away, she threw the dark haired one to the floor with her strength, and even as he fell, she pulled back into the second Nazi, catching him in the stomach, winding him as the point of her elbow dug into his flesh.  
Free of the pair, she walked up to the blond-haired captain and grabbed his collar, twisting it mercilessly. Even the diminutive size of her petite body threatened to explode with rage.  
By now the two other Nazis were standing, holding their guns at attention, ready to blow her away at the slightest gesture of their superior. Looking past Scully, the captain held up his hand and the soldiers confusedly lowered their guns. Then he returned his attention to the woman in front of him.  
He caught her with the icy blue of his eyes. She detected a faint twitch of a cheek muscle before he said; "I don't think so."  
Her eyebrow arched, even as she tightened her grip on his shirt. He cast his eyes downward, and she saw, keeping the skin of their stomachs from touching, a .45 Colt revolver. The muzzle was buried in her flesh.  
"Most painful way to die. Gunshot to the stomach. It would be a shame to make this end so badly," the blond nearly smirked.  
"Who . . . the hell . . . do you think you are?" Scully hissed, her voice twisted with pain and anger.  
The captain found himself entranced by the shine of her lips and the glint of her hair. "No one has ever talked back to me," he said, almost wistfully. "It makes you . . . different . . . special." He trailed his free hand up her side where the nerve endings were the most sensitive, and slowly cupped his hand around her neck.  
Scully's eyes locked with the man's who was violating her with his words, his actions. That bastard had killed Melissa. She knew her next comment would have her killed, but the words emerged anyway. "Fuck yo-"  
She never finished. Taking advantage of her pursed lips, the captain moved his gun and pressed her lips against his, frenching her hard.  
He pulled away and smiled. Scully was absolutely furious.  
He spoke. "Take her with us. I'm sure I can put her to good use."  
Scully gasped in horror and utter rage. She didn't have time to do anything, though, before another Nazi stepped up behind her and she was knocked unconscious. Everything went black.  
***  
Scully awoke in the dark. "Dammit," she cursed. She had no idea where she was, if she was even still in Germany. The only light filtered through the dirty window, pale streaks of moonlight illuminating bits of the plain room around her. A battered wooden table, military-issue, and a cotton bed with an ugly metal frame. That was all. The few pieces of furniture were obviously well worn, but this only provided the insecure knowledge that this was someone else's bedroom.  
Oh, shit.  
A *bedroom*. The blond bastard had meant what he said after all. He was planning on "putting her to good use" all right, but Scully would be damned if she let him go through with it. A thought detached itself from the rest of the train. What kind of idiot thinks he can kill your sister and then sleep with you? Then she smiled wickedly. Someone who's stupid enough to screw with me.  
***  
The captain entered the room about ten minutes later. Upon entering, he unslung his rifle and placed it on the table along with his revolver. Scully watched his movements like a hawk. She remained sitting on the edge of the bed, twisting herself as seductively as she could manage, given the circumstances.  
He turned slowly to face her, and even in the dark she could see the flash of his powerful eyes. Treading almost carefully, he moved over to the bed where she half-lay, and stood, towering over her. He looked down, and Scully could see the pools of blue shine with lust. "Samantha . . ." he spoke her name quietly, reverently. "How do you feel?"  
She stood up and carefully ran the point of her tongue around her lips. "Not as good as I'm about to feel," she smiled.  
The captain could hardly believe what she was saying. Samantha seemed even more anxious to begin then he did. He reached down and his fingertips brushed her thigh.  
Suddenly, Scully grabbed his waist and practically knocked him over with the force of her kiss. He took a few steps backward, yielding to the pressure, until his back was nearly flush with the wall. His hands, acting with a will of their own, moved around her waist and began to slip up her shirt.   
Taking her hand off his back, Scully firmly pulled his hands away. Breaking the kiss, she whispered, "I--I--"  
"What?" The captain's voice was a throaty whisper. He caught up her mouth in a quick liplock and pulled gently on her lower lip.  
She yanked away. "I don't think so." Scully echoed his earlier statement in a voice harsh and hateful. Her eyes were unforgiving, cold with hatred.  
The blond opened his eyes wide and his jaw twitched. "But . . . Samantha . . ." He anxiously reached for her.  
"Don't touch me." Scully whipped out the gun and lowered it to his stomach. "O captain, my captain, our fearful trip is done . . . O the bleeding drops of red, where on the deck my captain lies, fallen cold and dead."  
His eyelids lowered, in part to cover his fear and in part to emanate aloofness. "You wouldn't."  
"Most painful way to die. Gunshot wound to the stomach." Scully parroted his earlier phrases with uncanny ease. "It's a shame it has to end this way."  
The captain was no longer worried about his stature. His only concern was for his life, in the fragile hands of the tiny redhead who had his gun. "No! It doesn't have to end like this . . . I have money, connections, I can do anything, anything you want me to . . ."  
Scully shook her head in disgust at the weak man's groveling. "You've done enough." As the heavy words fell on his doomed ears, he bowed his head and she bit her lip. Squeezing the trigger, the fatal shot split the cold night air in a million glassy pieces.  
***  
  
Germany, 1944  
Several Days Later  
  
The cracked glass pane of the creaky wooden door proffered little about the person stepping inside. It's not patrons of the bar cared anyway. They were too self-absorbed, drowning their sorrows in liquor and booze.  
The man was tall, not extraordinarily, but large enough to see well over the heads of everyone else. The muscles of his arms swelled gently under his black uniform. He could have been called 'lanky' but his amassed inner strength wasn't hindered by this fact. His dark brown hair shone in the dim overhead light. His face proved him handsome, a strong jaw and powerful brow, with a pouty lower lip. What classified him as a Nazi were his eyes. Cold, icy even, devoid of emotion after years of training. Pools of green with specks of gold, swirled with flashes of radiant energy.  
Tonight, his eyes were shadowed with grief and half-lowered lids.  
Scully could tell he had come for some serious drinking.  
He walked over to the bar and sat down at a stool, resting his elbows on the dark polished wood. He tented his fingers over the bridge of his nose and stared quietly off into space as Scully took drink orders. After everyone else was accommodated, she turned to face him. "What can I get you?" she asked politely.  
He didn't answer, as if he didn't hear her.  
Scully put her open palms opposite his elbows and lowered her face so it was directly in front of his.   
"Sir?"  
Finally she had his attention. He looked straight into her eyes and a hint of a smile lit around the corner of his mouth. A piece of copper had fallen in front of her high cheekbone, and he mastered an urge to push it behind her ear. "Sorry. Shot of vodka, please."  
Her eyebrow arched as she turned away. Strong stuff. Burned the whole way down. She should know -- she had downed three straight shots after that night. And had landed this job.  
Scully placed the tiny glass in front of him and filled it. He swallowed it with one gulp. She waited for a cough, but the Nazi remained totally composed. He's had practice. The drink had left him totally unfazed. He set down the glass and nodded to it. She filled it again, and went back the other patrons.  
****   
Scully was wiping down the bar when she realized he had never left. Everyone else had filed out a long time ago. After she had served him his second shot, a wave of customers had poured in, and she had all but forgotten about him. Now she tossed the dirty rag into the sink and moved over to him, untying her apron. "Planning on leaving?"  
The Nazi stared at the remains of the crystal fluid in the shot glass, swirling it around the bottom with a slight movement of his wrist. He downed the remains and turned, rising from his chair. He carefully handed the glass to her, never looking at her face. She had been wrong, Scully decided. He wasn't drunk at all.  
Suddenly he looked up and she found herself locked in his gaze. His eyes, she noticed, were bright with unshed tears. "You're beautiful," he said unexpectedly.  
Then again . . . Scully was surpassed, to say the least.  
"Sorry," he cast his eyes downward. "It's not my place."  
No, it's not. "That's OK," she lied, not wanting to scare away customers.  
He smiled. "Well in that case, can I buy you a drink?"  
"We're closed."  
"I'm still here, aren't I?" He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a look somewhat similar to a helpless puppy.  
"And I'm asking you to leave."   
"You can't tell me what to do."  
Scully walked over until she was only a foot away from him and stared up at his face. If looks could kill. . . . "Well, let me tell you something. Just because you are a gun-toting, moraless Hunn doesn't mean you govern the lives of others. You have absolutely no power over me, or anyone else you wish to push around for the sake of inflating your fragile ego. Being a Nazi does not entitle to you to any rights, it simply tells the world you haven't a shred of human dignity. Now get out."  
The words seemed to have as great an effect on him as if she'd physically slapped him. His eyes glistened and when he next spoke, his voice was soft. "Did I ever say I wanted to . . . to be this? A Nazi? Did I say I like killing innocent civilians, tearing apart families, slaughtering fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters?"  
Scully's mouth formed a very small O and the shot glass slipped out of her trembling fingers, smashing on the floor.  
He continued, softly, almost pleading with her to listen. "I know what I do, and I hate who I've become because of it."  
" So then stop!"   
"It's not that easy. I was forced into Nazism. They know who I am and the minute I stop I'm dead."  
"But isn't it worse, to live a life that you hate, a life where you're only purpose is to destroy? Isn't the very change of leading an honorable life worth that risk?"  
He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. "I don't know. I just don't know."  
Poor guy maybe he really is... No, these men are taught to lie. But then why would he...? Scully gave him a disgusted look and began to clean up the pieces of glass that had shattered on the ground.  
"Maybe I should be going. I am the only one here.", he looked around the empty bar. "And you do want to be getting home to your family don't you?"  
Family. What family? Dad and Melissa were both dead. But what about mom? Something strange is going on...  
"Umm yes. I do." She glanced at the soldier as he stared at her in awe.  
Why is he just sitting there I thought I told him...  
"Well if you are just going to sit there I suggest you help me clean so I can finish closing up."   
"Are you asking me to stay Miss? Miss..."  
"Samantha. And no I'm not asking you to stay I'm telling you that if you don't get off your ass and do something around here I will personally escort you out to the street."   
" Samantha, what a pretty name. You know, I had a sister named Samantha."  
"Had?" Didn't someone else also have a sister named Samantha?"   
"Well, yes. She was taken by the Nazi's two years ago along with her daughter."  
"Are you Jewish?"  
"No, my father was part of the resistance. They would have killed me also but they said I would be "useful", so here I am now."   
"Oh, I'm sorry." There was a brief pause as she threw the broken glass away. "What's your name?"  
"William."   
"Well William. It was very nice meeting you but I'm just about ready to close up shop. So I guess I will be talking to you later."  
"I guess you are correct. You know, it's dangerous for a woman to be out by herself at this time of night. Would you like me to escort you back to your home?"  
"No. I'll be just fine."  
William got up from his seat and began to walk towards the door. "Alright I'll catch you later then", he said   
"Wait." She thought about the idea of getting captured by the Nazi's again.  
"I think I'll take you up on that offer of walking me home."   
"Very well then. How far away from here do you live?" Good question For the past two days she had been sleeping on the filthy, roach infested floor of the bar.   
"You know what, maybe I won't take you up on that offer. I'm fine."  
"Jeez, make up your mind."   
Scully dropped her eyes and stared at the counter.   
"What, they took your apartment also?" He read my mind   
"No... It's just that- well, yes they did take my apartment. I have been sleeping here."   
"I'm sorry." He paused for another moment thinking up a scheme to help poor Samantha." Hey, you know what... Why don't you come back with me to my apartment? I live just a little bit up the street."  
Scully thought about it for a moment. He does seem polite, Maybe, I could be better off going with him  
"Alright." She came out from behind the bar, throwing the wet rag she had been cleaning with away. It's time to see what William is really like   
* * *   
  
After the long walk down the desolate street they arrived at William's apartment. However, much to both of their dismay Green Police trucks surrounded it.   
"Damnit, what is this about?", William took Samantha by the hand as they crossed over the Cobblestone Street.  
"What's going on?", William yelled to a fellow Nazi officer. The officer was a much older man with a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth.  
"HOLT!" the man yelled. "Are you William Mulder?" Why bother asking when you know the answer William stood still for a moment. "Are you William Mulder?" he barked again, this time grabbing the attention of three fellow officers.   
"Yes..." Without hesitating they grabbed William and threw him on to the ground.   
"You are under arrest!"  
"For what?" he yelled.   
"You have been negotiating secret plans behind Germany's closed doors or the past three years. For this you will face death as a punishment." They pulled him up from the ground throwing him into the back of the truck. The smoking man couldn't but help notice Samantha staring in disbelief of this whole thing. He took one last puff of his cigarette and threw it onto the street.  
"Ah, I see William here has a lady friend here. Get his whore too boys, she has seen to much." He turned around and took out another cigarette from the pocket of his brown SS uniform.   
"Wait, haven't I seen you before?" A younger solider said to her as she was being hoarded into the truck. She remained silent. "Yeah, you're the woman who shot Eric and escaped!" He turned to the other goose-stepping maniacs. "Men, this is the red headed woman we have the warrant out for!" The other soldiers came closer gawking and poking at her. A younger blond man pushed her on the floor and climbed on top of her.   
"So you think you're a tough German girl, huh?" Her head snapped back by the force of his weight. "Well don't we have another thing coming for you. It's not wise to kill a Nazi, especially my brother." He took his hand and delivered a hard upper cut against her face.   
She winced back in pain, trying to be tough. However, before she knew it she was out cold against the cold metal floor of the truck.   
"Take them away..." The older man barked for the second time. "...Away for good!"   
* * *   
  
"Sam....Samantha....Samantha?" she was awoken by a whisper and a splitting headache. "Are you alright? You were hit kind-of hard there." William took his hand and patted her soft red hair. He had been holding her in his arms from the time that they had deported, and from what she felt it had to have been morning. She shut her eyes trying to remember what had happened.   
"We've stopped Sam. That must mean that we are close...close to what, I don't know." He paused for a moment and resumed his silent talk. "I am afraid. I'm afraid of what they are going to do to us though. I'm really afraid Sam..." He's confessing his inner soul to me and he barely knows me. I know him though. I know this man! "...Please wake up Sam, I don't want to die alone. You have no idea what they do to these people, please Sam...please!" Is he crying? Her inner stubbornness was still not allowing her to feel much remorse for a crying man in a Nazi uniform. Wait! A Nazi uniform?  
"Mulder? Mulder, is that you?"   
"What? No Sam, it's me William." She opened her eyes wide. That's Mulder! I remember now! "Mulder, it's you. Where are we?"   
"No Sam. I'm William. We met last night at the bar you work at. The SS arrested us also and one of the soldiers hit you really hard across the face. You were out for awhile, but I'm glad your back."  
"What the hell are you talking about Mulder? We are Federal Agents. I don't work at any bar and the SS is long gone." She got up on her knees and rubbed her face. "Shit, what happened to my face and why are you wearing that hitious uniform?" She stood up and looked out the window.   
"Sam, sit down! They will see you and come and get you!" She paused for a moment and looked at the landscape around her, it was like no other she had seen before.   
"Where the fuck are we Mulder, and why the fuck are you calling me Sam?" She caught the attention of two nearby SS officers who came running over.   
"What is this, some kind of a joke? Are we in some kind of fucking time warp? Is this what you are doing now to try to get me to see the truth?" She twisted the handle of the door to the truck. "I don't know about you, but I am leaving." Why is it locked?   
Suddenly a stream of light hit her and she was lying on the ground below the truck.   
"Get up!"   
Someone must have opened the door from the other side.   
"Get up I said!"   
The man was tall, dark, and incredibly handsome. However, despite his extraordinary looks, with one arm missing he appeared to be an amputee. Krycek?  
"If I have to say get up one more time you will never get up again."  
She got to her knees pulling herself up. The man gestured towards Mulder in the truck.  
"Get out of the truck!"   
He immediately sprang up from where he was sitting and stood next to her.   
"Who the hell do you think you are? I am a Federal Agent! I can have your ass beat and thrown in jail for this." The situation was almost beginning to register, when she took a good look at the world around her. This was indeed nothing she had ever seen before. This wasn't even the 21st century. The soldier just continued to stare expressionless at her.   
"Ugh, you know what. Fuck this! Fuck you all....I'm out of here!"   
She turned her back away from them and began walking in the opposite direction. An ominous grin came across the soldier's face. He turned around and with out warning fired three shots. All three hitting Scully in the back, going through her chest and out the other side. She immediately fell to the ground.  
This isn't happening. She brought her hand to her chest and felt around for any signs of serious wounds. I don't feel any pain. No, no pain at all. Everything must be fine. I'm going to get up and walk right out of here!   
"Samantha...Oh my God, she's still alive!" She heard in the distance. "Somebody help her or she is going to die."   
Nah, they couldn't be talking about me. I'm not in any pain. See I just checked and... She brought her hand back up to her face. Her normally perfect peach skin complexion was scarlet, stained in crimson with her own blood. She took a frightened look at the ground below her chest that she had been laying on. There was blood all around. Agent Dana Scully Or so she once thought was bleeding to death.  
Oh God, oh God, I'm going to die!   
At that moment she began to feel the sharp pain of the three bullet wounds that had gone through her back and pierced her chest. So this is the end? She felt her face to make sure that this wasn't a dream. She didn't know what was worse, the pain of the actual bullets hitting her, or the emptiness she was feeling that Mulder wasn't there. Here I am, my last minutes on Earth and I'm thinking about Mulder. I hope he makes it out of here. She glanced up for a moment, feeling a hand pat her on the shoulder.   
"Mulder? Is that you?" Her light-headedness was beginning to pull her into almost a semi-coma. Her eyes were shut, but she knew by the feeling of the hand that it was indeed Mulder.   
"Yes, it's me Scully!"   
"Why did they do this to me? Let me die with dignity please. Not here, not now, not out here in the middle of nowhere!"  
"Scully...."  
"Yes?"  
"What the hell are you talking about?"   
* * *  
  
"Don't you see, I'm going to die here. I've lost way too much blood. I should be dead already. I'm so sorry Mulder."  
"Don't be Scully. Please, your going to be just fine. I promise!"   
"Oh God Mulder..." She opened her eyes one last time and uttered a huge "OH GOD!" She immediately rose up, staring around the room at the two semi-amused faces that were looking directly at her.  
"Agent Scully? Are you awake now?" Director Skinner uttered unenthusiastically. He shoved a stack of papers back into his file. "I see you will definitely have just as much fun on this case as Agent Mulder did with the fish case." he said sarcastically. "But you know what? You are a Federal Agent and some work isn't supposed to be fun. You will take this case like any other case and solve it." He nodded, gesturing towards the doorway. "You are both dismissed." They both arose from their seats and exited. "Ah yes, and Agent Scully?"  
"Yeah sir?"  
"Try to get a good nights sleep tonight. I wouldn't normally expect this out of you."   
"Thanks sir." She smiled a benevolent smile and left.  
"Ahem" Mulder looked as if he wanted his partner's attention. She looked at him, knowing that she would have to explain her little 'episode' sooner or later.   
"So what was that little dramatic episode about in there Agent Scully?" He said in his 'professional' voice. "Are the hardships of parenting beginning to catch up with you?" She remained silent.  
"It was so real Mulder. I was in Germany and we were arrested by the Nazi's."  
"We?" They boarded the elevator, heading back down to Mulder's office.   
"Yeah, you were there. You went by the name 'William'. I didn't realize it was you until the end. I kept on getting hit over the head and every time that I would awake I would know a little bit more." Mulder looked at her with a confused look upon his face. "I know…I know it's all strange now, but I actually felt the pain of the bullets piercing my skin. And you know what I found to be the strangest of all?" Mulder shook his head 'no'.   
"Tell me Scully." She took a long pause.   
"My name was Samantha. You see, I knew that I was Dana but somehow whenever I was asked for a name, immediately I would respond 'Samantha'. It was out of my control."   
Mulder glanced at her, almost sympathetically.   
"Sometimes dreams allow you to go deep within your soul and not only discover the truth about yourself, but the truth about the people around you."   
"What are you saying Mulder?" They stood still.   
"Maybe you are looking inside people so deep for the truth, that you are coming out with false images. Perhaps, this was some sort of sign."  
"A sign of what?" She crossed her arms and waited for some paranormal explanation.  
"I'm not sure. Only you can tell for sure." She took a couple of deep breaths, almost trying to choke back tears.  
"You know what Mulder… I'm going to go home." She was beginning to feel extremely sick. I have probably caught Matthew's virus. Mulder looked at his watch, it was only 11:53 AM. He nodded his head.   
"I'll talk to you later then." They began to depart in different directions.  
"Oh yes, and Mulder?" She stopped short, trying to come up with another some-what vague explanation.   
"Yeah Scully?" He immediately turned back around.  
"The only sign this could have possibly of given me, was that I need to get a better night's rest."  
"Right…" Why bother saying anything, knowing that she will just argue it to their graves.   
They both walked in their opposite directions. Scully, heading back towards her Washington apartment, and Mulder to his office to research 'dreams and their meanings'.   
  
~ I'm done, Go home!  
  
Remember: Feedback is vital!   



End file.
